


Two Dragons

by Northern_Lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Bedsharing, Cuddles, F/M, Fade to Black, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Future Fic, Girl disguised as boy, Happy Ending, Mentions of Rape, No Smut, One Shot, Past Rape/Non-con, Sappy, Slavery, but not underage when the relationship happens, cousins can marry in Westeros, impulsive weddings, underage character when they meet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 06:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: North of the Wall Jon lives among the free folk for a few years until a strange silver haired child arrives wanting to join the disbanded Night's Watch.





	Two Dragons

Jon and the wildlings didn’t go back to Castle Black very often but they did leave the castle manned. A small group of older men who were too feeble to travel had agreed to stay there along with a few of their younger family members as well as a few original members of the watch. In that way the wildlings could still send and receive word from the south. So when Jon saw Lars approaching the wildling camp he at first though there must be another letter from Sansa. Then he saw the skinny child that followed Lars he wondered if this visit was about a Raven after all. The child was maybe eleven or twelve years old, dressed in tattered black breeches and cloak. He had wisps of blond hair coming from the fur hood he wore and as he got closer Jon could see that the lad’s eyes held a purple hue. Lars joined Jon at the fire and took an offered bowl of stew. 

“I haven’t got no letters,” Lars began. 

“That’s alright,” Jon said, regarding the lad who still stood a yard away. 

“Sit down lad,” Lars told the boy and he did as asked. “This here lad came all the way to join the Night’s Watch. I told him the Watch don’t exist no more, only as a sort of symbolic group. That’s what you called it isn’t it? An order that symbolizes the protection of the North and that will continue to protect the realms of men should the need arise.” 

“I suppose I did,” Jon found himself amused at the dramatic way Lars had repeated his words. 

“Well I told the lad that and he said he needed to see the lord commander anyhow. And I told him there was no lord commander on account of the Watch doesn’t exist. If the Watch doesn’t exist then the commander doesn’t exist, you know?” 

“Indeed,” Jon agreed. 

“But this fellow here is persistent and he tried to run away in the night looking for you at the wildling camp,” Lars explained. “The lad came all the way here from Pentos. It’s a lot warmer in Pentos than here. I figured he’d probably starve or freeze trying to find you so I brought him myself rather than let him get himself killed.” 

“What’s your name, boy?” Jon asked the lad who now was eating a bowl of stew as if he were half starved. 

“Rhae,” the child said between bites. 

“And what brought you all this way looking for the lord commander of the Watch?” 

“I want to say my vows and join the watch,” the lad said firmly. 

“Why?”Jon pressed for answers. “Why come all the way here from Pentos to join a disbanded order?” 

“I heard that people could still come here. I heard that a boy escaped hanging three months past and came here…” Rhae stated worriedly. 

“I suppose that’s still true. That’s why you came here. To avoid justice of some kind?” Jon asked. “What did you do?” 

Rhae had stopped eating and looked hesitant to reveal anything. 

“It’s alright,” Jon assured. “We all have a story. We aren’t gonna send you South for it, whatever it is.” 

“So I can still join and whatever happens in the South is no danger to me?” 

“In a way you can but there will be no vows. Tell us what you did that brought you here.” 

“I was born to a slave woman who served Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos. I don’t remember my father. When I asked my mother who he was, she told me that long ago her master had sheltered a prince and a princess. The prince had been seventeen years old and he was always very sad, and mother was fourteen years old and she tried to make him happy. My father Viserys was never happy though and eventually he left to try and get a crown. The Lannister Queen sent someone to kill me three times. I barely escaped with my life. I have no place else to go but here.” 

“You have the Targaryen look,” Jon said, after a moment of letting the words sink in. “But Cersei Lannister is dead. Bran and Sansa will not send anyone to kill you.” 

“Maybe not, but no one has forgotten what my Aunt did to the capital. People hate me for that. And the lords of westeros who are hungry for power might want to use me to plan an uprising. I can’t live in the south and there is nothing in Essos but slavery. May I stay? Please?” 

“Of course you may,” Jon said, finding that he felt sorry for Rhae. 

Rhae let out a sigh of relief and resumed eating. 

***

It took Jon only three weeks to realize that Rhae had been dishonest with them. The clothes he wore were oversized ill fitting rags. When offered better fitting clothes, Rhae refused. Rhae was not strong enough to carry as much firewood as the other lads his size and had no skill at all with weapons of any sort. None of it made any sense until late one morning when Jon found blood in the snow at the spot where Rhae had used the latrine. Rhae did not appear to be injured so the blood could only mean one thing. 

Jon found the young Targaryen sitting by one of the campfires alone. He took a seat on a log nearby. “I think there’s something we need to talk about.” 

“About what?” Rhae was trying not to sound worried. 

“I found blood in the latrine.” 

Rhae let out a soft gasp but said nothing. 

“That’s why you refused the clothes and didn’t even know how to hold a sword isn’t it?” Jon asked gently. 

A few tears slipped from Rhae’s eyes but still the child said nothing. 

“Rhae, my sister Arya hid among the some lads of the watch as a boy. It took them a while to realize she was a girl but even she knew the disguise wouldn’t work forever. She knew they’d figure it out eventually and then what?” 

“Maybe they wouldn’t figure it out,” Rhae said. “Maybe if she didn’t eat much she’d stay thin and small for years and no one would know she was a girl and they didn’t know they couldn’t rape her again.” 

“If that’s the case then she would have needed to be extra careful about things like blood in the latrine,” Jon said. He still felt sorry for her and simply didn’t know what else to say. 

“I didn’t know!” Rhae burst into tears. “It’s my first moon blood...I didn’t know…I don’t know...” Rhae picked up her feet and hugged her knees in an attempt to hold back her sobs. 

Jon was at a loss. He knew next to nothing about what young maidens did about their first moon blood. This was something that her mother should be talking to her about. “Where is your mother?” he asked her.

“Pentos. In a grave.”. Rhae sniffled. 

Jon let out a sigh. “You’ll need rags,” he told her. “I’ll find Lyra to fetch them for you,” he said, knowing that the older wildling woman would know what to do. 

“Wait!” Rhae called out with panic. “You can’t tell them…please? I am not a wildling. I don’t know how to fight off suitors...I don’t have any family here. I’ll never be safe.” 

Jon moved a little closer to her and took her hand. “You do have family here. Not many people know this but, I am not the son of Eddard Stark. He raised me for his sister’s sake. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Your father and mine were brothers. You will be safe because you are my cousin and I will not allow any harm to come to you here. I swear it.” 

Rhae’s eyes met his and Jon could see that her hands were shaking, her jaw was quivering. Something truly terrible had to have happened to her to push her to come all this way and pretend to be a boy. Unexpectedly, Rhae threw her arms around him and held on as tightly as she could manage with her frail arms. Jon hugged her in return and let her weep as much as she needed. It was a long while before she finally calmed and when she did pull away from him there was gratefulness in her eyes instead of fear. 

“I’ll go fetch Lyra now,” he told her and left her sitting at the fireside. 

***

Six years living among the wildlings had changed Rhae but some things never changed. Since the day that her cousin Jon had sworn his protection of her, Rhae had loved him. She supposed that at first it had been a child’s love but she wasn’t a child anymore and Jon wasn’t even old. He was ten years older than her. In all this time he was her family, her guardian, her world. He had kept his word and not allowed any harm to come to her. During the first months of her stay with the wildlings he had spent a great deal of time reminding her to eat. She had been afraid of growing too feminine and attracting unwanted attention and hadn’t wanted to eat. It was only after Jon had given a black eye to a young lad that not accepted her words of rejection that Rhae understood that she truly was safe. Cousin Jon would not allow any of these men to hurt her. By day she had never gone too far from his proximity and by night she always slept at his fire. 

It had surprised her when Jon had been uninterested in the flirtations of Lyra’s granddaughter Pia two years earlier. She had been a pretty dark haired young woman of a similar age to Jon. But Jon had remained purposely oblivious to her interests and to the interests of any of the women. He was aware that they took a liking to him but he never returned their affection. Rhae had heard Jon and Tormund talking by the fire one night when she was supposed to be asleep. Jon didn’t want to make any more mistakes as far as women were concerned. He didn’t want to watch any more people he loved die. Tormund had told him he was being stubborn and stupid but Jon had not relented. 

Rhae awoke wrapped in furs near the dying embers of the fire. Jon was still asleep. She watched him from across the fire wishing for the hundredth time that she could sleep closer to him. She didn’t often have a reason to be close to him. There had been a few hugs over the years. There had been many more words of kindness and acts of protection and stories from his childhood. Rhae knew all about his childhood and Winterfell and the Starks. She had told Jon very little about Pentos. He knew the basics. He knew her mother’s name and of their master Mopatis. He knew her life had been difficult but only in the vaguest sense of the word. 

Footsteps approached the camp and the sound of crunching snow woke Jon from sleep. 

“Lars?” Jon called out and then got to his feet to see him. 

Lars soon joined the group at the fire while Rhae added more wood to the bed of coals. 

“You’ve been invited to Winterfell for a feast. You and Tormund both. It seems that King Bran is returning North for a visit.” Lars explained. “Queen Sansa has some sort of announcement to make and she wants the both of you there.” 

“Winterfell…” Jon mused almost smiling. “That’s good news.” 

Rhae couldn’t help but feel worried at this news. Jon would be gone for weeks, maybe months, and she hadn’t been invited to Winterfell. It was only after Lars had wandered away to sit with one of the women that Jon joined Rhae at the fireside. 

“I know you’re worried,” he said simply. 

Rhae was adding wood to the fire and doing her best to act as though everything was fine. “Why would I be worried?” 

“If Sansa knew you were here, she would have invited you too,” Jon told her. “There was never a discreet way to tell her in a letter. No one knows my real parentage except her and a few people. I couldn’t tell her I’ve been sheltering my cousin without explaining who you were…”

“I know,” Rhae understood his reasons for not telling Sansa about her. She truly did. 

“If I go and Tormund goes, you’ll be alone,” Jon mused aloud, almost sounding worried himself. 

“I won’t be alone. I have Lyra,” Rhae reminded him. The woman had become almost an adoptive grandmother to her over the years. 

“What’s Lyra going to do if Egan gets too forceful with you again?” Jon asked. “I could just write Sansa and tell her I am bringing one more guest. She wouldn’t mind.” 

“Could you?” Rhae asked, hope in her tone. 

“I will. You’ll like Winterfell. How long since you’ve been in a castle?” 

“Years. Illryio had a villa. It wasn’t exactly a castle.” 

Jon fell silent a moment. “You never talk about him, your slave master.” 

“I don’t like to remember it. I wasn’t truly a slave anyhow. My mother was. Illryio called me his guest, but only because he knew Viserys was my father. He still treated me like property all the same.” 

“Sansa might be happy to have you as a real guest if you go as just my guest. If you go as a Targaryen…” 

“She doesn’t like Targaryens,” Rhae said, understanding. “It seems no one does.” 

“Well I do,” Jon said with a hint of a smile. 

Rhae allowed herself a small smile too as Jon got to his feet. “We leave tomorrow. You’ll need to be packed.” 

***

Sansa forgot to be regal and queenly and for just a moment when Jon arrived, she lost all composure as she ran from her place in the courtyard to hug him. Rhae watched the reunion from where she stood at her horse’s side. After Jon let Sansa go, the Queen’s eyes fell on Rhae. 

“This must be your guest?” Sansa asked. 

“This is Rhae. She came from Pentos and has been living among the Free Folk for about six years now,” Jon explained. 

“I see,” Sansa said with a raised eyebrow and half a smile. “Well I have prepared a room for all my guests. I assume you will want to change into clothes that aren’t covered in snow before dinner. Come?” 

Sansa led the way into the castle herself. She was a queen and clearly didn’t need to show the guests to their rooms herself but these guests were her family. Family deserved special treatment. She led them towards the part of the castle where the Stark rooms were and stopped in front of the bedchamber that used to belong to Bran. 

“This was once Bran’s room. I hope it will do for you Tormund?” Sansa said graciously. 

Tormund glanced into the open door. “It will do fine.” 

Jon gave Tormund a warning look. 

“It will do fine, Your Grace,” Tormund amended. 

Sansa led Jon and Rhae further down the hall and stopped in front of another door. “I didn’t think your old chambers would be appropriate Jon,” Sansa explained. “They’re too small and too near the servants quarters. Rob’s old room seemed right for the two of you.” 

Jon paled at her words. “Sansa, we’re not…” He began uncomfortably, unsure how to politely get out of this mess. 

“It’s alright. I know Wildlings don’t marry in the same way that we do South of the Wall. I wouldn’t want to impose my customs on you by giving you separate rooms. This one should be large enough, am I right?” 

“It is large enough,” Rhae spoke up as Jon seemed to be at a loss for words. “Thank you Your Grace.” 

“Winterfell is warm enough that you won’t need to wear furs,” Sansa continued. “If you came here from Pentos Rhae, then I imagine it has been a long time since you wore a dress. I’ll be happy to find some dresses for you if want them. If not. I’ll take no offense. My sister Arya prefers to wear something other than dresses most of the time.” 

“It might be nice to wear a dress again,” Rhae admitted. 

“I’ll have a few sent to your room,” Sana said. Clearly pleased with the answer she had been given. 

Jon waited until Sansa had left the hallway and they had closed the door behind them before he spun to face Rhae. “Why did you let her think that we’re…?” 

“Why did you?” Rhae returned the question. 

“I didn’t know what to say. Sansa and I haven’t always gotten along. She likes manners and courtesy. I didn’t want to be rude. “Jon sighed. “It’s no matter. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“I don’t see why you should need to. The bed is huge,” Rhae said as if she didn’t care one way or the other. In truth she did care. Sansa’s mistake might just work in her favor if she were careful. 

Jon said nothing. He just stared at the huge bed like he didn’t know what it even was. Soon servants entered the room and began to carry water to the bath chamber. Because Rhae’s dress hadn’t arrived yet, Jon had the first bath. By the time he had finished Sansa had sent a dress. The bath water was changed and Rhae had a bath of her own. She dressed alone in the bath chamber in a dress of pale lavender. The dress was a little too long but otherwise fit very well. She combed her silvery blonde hair and pinned up only part of it with a hairpin. The rest of her hair she left to hang down her back. 

Rhae emerged from the bath chamber to find Jon sitting on the bed. For some reason that she could not explain, he looked a little stunned to see her. Rhae wondered if it was the dress that had gotten this reaction out of him. The furs she wore among the Free Folk had done nothing to show off her figure and most of the time she had dressed to hide her curves. Now she was wearing a flowy lavender dress that accentuated her curves and matched her eyes. In addition, Rhae had always braided her hair and kept it under a fur hood. She didn’t ever allow her silvery curls to hang lose. They only got in the way of building fires and cooking and tanning hides. Jon got up from the bed and went to where she stood, stopping as if to look her over. 

“What?” she asked him worriedly. “Is there something wrong with the dress?” 

“No,” he said in a tone she could not interpret. “Not a thing.” 

Jon took her arm and escorted her out of the room. It was the first time he had touched her in ages and Rhae hoped it would be a long walk to the small hall where Sansa had chosen to host dinner. She didn’t want him to let go of her arm anytime soon. They reached the small hall and found Sansa and Tormund were already there. An unfamiliar man sat at Sansa’s side. Jon let go of Rhae’s arm and took a seat. 

“Bran will be here in another week,” Sansa began as soon as they were all seated. “But I don’t want to wait until then to make my announcement. Jon this is Larence Snow.” She said of the young man at her side. “Years ago he was among the Bolton Captives at Deepwood Mott. Three years ago he came to serve at Winterfell in the Household Guard. I invited you here because I hoped you would be part of our wedding?” 

Jon smiled a little, clearly pleased at this news. “Of course I will Sansa.” 

The meal continued with lots of friendly conversation. Larence was rather quiet for most of it but what little he did say seemed intelligent and well thought out. Sansa had chosen a husband who was kind and wise. He was a man who had suffered through Ramsay Bolton’s abuse and lived to tell the tale. And he was lowborn enough that her station as Queen would not be threatened by him. Watching them for the duration of the meal made it clear that the pair did have a great deal of affection for one another. Sansa seemed to be genuinely happy. 

Rhae was glad to have Jon’s hand on her arm again when they left the meal. It was such a small thing but it meant so much. Then they reached the bedchamber and once the door was closed he let her go. Rhae went into the bath chamber changed out of her dress into a sleeping shift. She climbed into bed while Jon changed his own clothes. Jon emerged from the bath chamber and stood near the door looking unsure of himself. 

“The bed really is large enough,” Rhae said almost absently. It wouldn’t matter what she said. He would go find some furs and sleep on the floor all the same. He was just being Jon. 

Jon crossed the room to stand at the bedside. “Most big beds sink down in the middle.” He pointed out. “We won’t be able to keep to our own sides.” 

“I don’t care,” Rhae didn’t know why the words just slipped out but once they were out she couldn’t take them back. 

“Rhae…?” Jon sat down on the bed and reached for her hand. “What’s going on with you?” 

“Nothing. Just go to bed Jon. Or don’t.” 

To her great surprise, Jon actually did get into the bed. He made an effort to keep to the edge of the bed. Rhae waited until Jon seemed to be asleep before she carefully moved close enough to Jon that she could feel his warmth and could reach over and place her hand on his arm. Every fibre of her being longed to move close enough to actually cuddle with him. It had been probably a year since he’d hugged her last. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her. Rhae was sure that he did care. At least he cared for her as a cousin, as his blood. But he clearly didn’t need her like she needed him. He had three other cousins besides her and he had the respect of all the Free Folk. Rhae had no other family. It probably hadn’t even occurred to Jon that because they were the last of the Targaryens they should be together as more than cousins. Their family had married brothers and sisters just to keep the bloodlines pure. This wasn’t even about bloodlines though. This was about loneliness. Rhae wished for a moment that Jon would say once again that he loved her. He had said so three times in the years she had known him. Those words had meant everything to her. She would give anything to hear them again. She choked back a sob and leaned a little closer to Jon’s warmth, still doing so without touching him. 

“Rhae?” Jon spoke quietly in the darkness. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” she admitted, knowing that she had never been any good at lying to him. “I’m not.” 

“Are you going to tell me why?” 

“I was just thinking about something…” 

“About Pentos?” he asked. 

She supposed it made sense he would assume her distress was related to that period of her life. 

“What happened to you there?” he continued. “I mean, what is the terrible thing that happened that you never talk about?” 

“It wasn’t about that,” Rhae said, unsure that she could ever talk about the events he was asking about. 

“Then what was it?” 

“Do you remember that night when I nearly fell from the Fist of the First Men?” Rhae had nearly fallen and Jon had caught her and kept her from going over the edge, hugged her and told her he wouldn’t want anything to happen to the people he loved. “Sometimes I wish I could go back there.” 

“Why?” Jon asked, thoroughly confused. 

“You don’t remember what you said to me?” Rhae asked, Her voice breaking. 

Jon thought about her question for a moment. “I think I said I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“You said you wouldn’t want anything to happen to the people you loved,” she corrected gently. 

“Rhae…” Jon breathed her name. “I still love you even when you aren’t nearly falling to your death.” 

“Then why do you never say so?” 

“Because I’m not a very wise man,” Jon said, a little irritated. “I should have realized though. You came to me when you were still a child and you had no other family. I should have realized you needed more from me. You’re not a child anymore but maybe still do need more from me.” 

“Did you ever think that...that we’re the last of the Targaryens...and we shouldn’t let it end with us?” 

“Yes,” Jon said but he sounded uncomfortable with the word. “I thought of that.” 

“And you thought about keeping bloodlines pure?” 

“I don’t care much about bloodlines,” Jon told her. “Besides, I didn’t think you would approve of anything like that. I’ve seen how afraid you get when any man gets to close to you.” 

“Not you. Not when you get too close,” Rhae told him honestly. 

Jon turned on his side to face her. “That’s why you said we could share the room, share the bed…” Jon said with realization. 

“Maybe. And maybe you allowed it for the same reasons I did.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“When you broke your hand and Pia wanted to help you lace your boots and tie your cloak you wouldn’t let her do it, but you let me.” 

“I suppose I did.” 

“And that night when the wildfire burned half our furs you let me share your furs, not Willa.” Rhae pointed out, remembering how he had held her close for warmth while they slept. 

“I felt guilty about that.” he said sadly. 

“Why? Because I was fourteen?” she was confused. Many women were already married by that age but maybe he thought of her as a child. 

“You were very young, yes.” Jon admitted sadly. “And I thought you would have preferred to sleep alone with your own furs. I thought that because of whatever happened in Pentos that sleeping the way we were would make you uncomfortable.” 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” 

.”Well, I thought that you were. I woke in the night that night and you were crying, really crying. It was too cold for either of us to sleep alone so I just pretended to be asleep rather than let you go.” 

“I didn’t want to go. That’s why I was crying. I didn’t want to ever go and I knew that we would never sleep like that again. I knew that would be the last time…” 

“Gods Rhae...come here?” 

Rhae did as he requested without hesitation. His arms came around her and he pulled her close to himself. “I’m sorry I failed you.” Jon told her. 

“You didn’t fail me,” Rhae said, making every effort not to start crying. 

“I did. I remember now how Lord Stark always showed his daughters affection and told them often that he loved them. You were a child and had no father or mother to give you those things. I was the only family you had all these years and...the Fist of the First Men was two years ago...will you forgive me?” 

“For what?” Rhae said, unsure what he was asking. 

“For not telling you more often that I love you.” 

Rhae could no longer hold back her tears at those words. “You really do?” She didn’t ask him to define his love. Though she knew her affection for him was the romantic kind, for the moment it was enough that he loved her as family. Any sort of love would do. 

“I really do Rhae. And this doesn’t have to be the last time we sleep like this. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“It would be a lot warmer when we go home…” she said, allowing herself a little hope. 

“It would,” he agreed and he pulled her a little closer and kissed her on the forehead. 

*** 

They waited four days for Bran’s arrival. Jon and Rhae spent the time with Tormund, Sandsa, and Larence. Sansa had Rhae meet with her own personal tailor to be fitted for new dresses. She loved the dresses and she loved Winterfell and more than that she loved sleeping close to Jon each night. She felt as if she were very nearly whole for the first time in her life. She was also aware that for three of the nights that she’d slept near him, Jon had wanted more from her than just the hug they shared. She would have given it to him but he didn’t ask. He just pretended it wasn’t happening and went to sleep. Rhae supposed that he probably just needed more time. On the fourth morning Rhae awoke and Jon wasn’t in the bed. His side of the bed was cold as if he had been gone a long while. He wasn’t in the bath chamber. He wasn’t in the small hall having breakfast. He wasn’t in Sansa‘ solar or any of the places Rhae checked. Her sense of panic was growing with every failed attempt to find him. Eventually she made her way to the godswood and found him kneeling before a heart tree. 

Overcome with emotion Rhae marched over to him and couldn’t decide if she wanted to slap him or hug him. “Where fuck have you been?” She asked, her voice breaking, tears on her face. 

“I’ve been here,” Jon said, clearly confused at her display of emotion. “I thought I’d let you sleep.” 

“I didn’t need sleep!” 

Jon got to his feet. “Rhae, it’s alright…” he tried calming her in spite of having no idea what was really wrong. Rhae wasn’t emotional like this very often. 

“It isn’t alright! You were there and then you were gone just like everyone else!” 

“Like who?” 

“Like my mother and my Uncle Mott,” she said feeling too weak to stand any longer. Rhae all but collapsed to the ground. 

“You never mentioned you had an Uncle,” Jon took a seat on the ground next to her. 

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk about it…” 

“What happened Rhae? Whatever it was, it might be easier if you didn’t try to carry it alone.” 

“ My mother died when I was four. I barely remember her. It was her older brother Mott who cared for me. He was a slave too like my mother but he tried to look out for me whenever he could. Then when Danaerys Targaryen took Kingslanding our master decided he didn’t have any more use for Targaryen guests. So he sold me to one of his dinner guests during a feast. I was told to go to my room and pack my things and be prepared to go with my new master within the hour. Mott met me in my room and told me we were running away, that the man I had been sold to was dangerous and he couldn’t let me go with him but Illyrio expected we would try to run and he stopped us from leaving. I left with a new master to live in a Villa half a mile away in the city. Mott was right about him. My new master let his fourteen year old bastard son do whatever he wanted with me so when I tried to resist going to his son’s bed, he had me beaten. Mott saw me in the marketplace a year later covered in bruises and asked after my welfare. I told him the beating wasn’t so bad, it was what the new master son forced on me that I hated. My words upset Mott enough that he attacked my master in the marketplace, gave him a black eye, drew blood…” 

“Is Mott still alive?” Jon asked, stricken at her story. He knew well enough how such tales typically ended. 

“No. The punishment they gave him…” she sobbed. “He lived for a few days after the public beating but the infection…a hundred lashes and I watched the whole thing from a window. If I had just stayed quiet and not told him what had happened to me… it’s my fault he’s dead.” 

“It’s not,” Jon said firmly. “It’s not your fault. What did you think would happen if you told me?” 

“I don’t know. I just thought it would end badly. I always think it will end badly. When I woke up and you weren’t there I panicked. I thought it was ending badly again.” 

“It doesn’t have to this time,” Jon reached over and took her hand. “Maybe you were right. Maybe Sansa was right.” 

“About what?” 

“I saw her early this morning, alone without Larence or Tormund. I told her who you were, the daughter of Viserys and how you came to the Free Folk six years ago. I told her that I didn’t do such a good job with being your only family all this time. And Sansa said that was nonsense. She said that if I had done such a terrible job you wouldn’t be in love with me. I tried to tell her that we never meant to come to Winterfell and share a bedchamber, that had been a misunderstanding. Sansa still insisted that it didn’t matter, that it was clear to her that we have feelings for one another and that I should stop being stupid and just admit it.” 

“Was she right?” Rhae hardly dared to ask the question. “Do you?” 

Jon nodded as he sighed. “I didn’t even know it until we arrived here and Sansa gave you that purple dress.” 

“I knew it since the day you discovered I was a girl and you promised me I would be safe.” Rhae told him. 

“That long?” Jon gave her hand a squeeze. “I suppose I did love you in a different way back then. I’m not exactly sure when it changed.” 

“So what will we do now?” 

Jon said nothing. Instead he leaned a little closer and kissed her. The sound of someone approaching broke apart their kiss. 

“Well it’s about godsdamn time,” Tormund said as he entered the godswood. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jon asked. 

“The two of you have been secretly swooning over each other for years. It’s about fucking time you finally kissed.” 

“I haven’t been...swooning,” Jon argued. 

“No? Remember that hunting trip last year? We were gone for four days and when we came back and Rhae ran and hugged you. I saw how happy you both were. It’s been a good seven years since you’ve seen Sansa. You didn’t greet her the same way you greeted Rhae after four days.” 

“Sansa is taller than I am,” Jon pointed out. He had picked Rhae up when he hugged her but she was petite enough that he could do so. 

“It’s not about height you nitwit. You’ve never treated Rhae like she was one of the Free Folk. You treated her like she was a Southerner, like she was delicate and might break and like she needed your protection. Maybe when she first came here she did but Rhae learned to be one of us and if you had left her North when you came here she would have been fine. You didn’t do that because you were too busy swooning over her, just like she was over you.” 

“How would you know that?” Rhae asked, almost a protest but not quite. 

“I have eyes. I see the way you look at him, like he’s some fucking knight from the Southern Songs. You’ve done that since the day you came here.” 

More footsteps were approaching and Tormund turned to see who was entering the godswood. It was Sansa and Larence. 

“There you are Jon,” Sansa said with relief. “I wondered where you gone off to. Bran is here.” 

“You came just in time,” Tormund said. 

“In time for what?” Sansa asked. 

“To see these two say their vows. Bring your brother and we’ll have it done with,” Tormund insisted, then he gave Jon a look. “Don’t try to tell me it isn’t what you want. You ‘re one of the Free Folk now but you do still care about some of the ways you grew up with. You’ll want to say vows just like your parents did.” 

Jon glanced at Rhae with questions in his eyes and she didn’t look horrified at the idea. She looked hopeful and even happy. She nodded just slightly at his questioning look. 

“We’ll wait for Bran,” Jon agreed. 

In the minutes while they waited for Bran to arrive in the godswood, Sansa was already making plans. “We’ll have a small feast for celebration,” She was saying. “There won’t be time for anything elaborate but I want to give you a wedding gift of some sort. Only, your lives are very different than mine. I don’t know what sort of gift to give you.” 

“It’s alright Sansa. I don’t need any gifts,” Jon said. 

“What about you Rhae? If I could give you anything what would you ask of me?” Sansa asked. 

Rhae hesitated a moment. There was one thing she could think of but it was too strange to mention. “It wouldn’t be appropriate as wedding gift Your Grace.” 

“If it’s what you want then it’s appropriate. What is it?” Sansa asked, eager to give something. 

“They say that my father Viserys is buried near Vaes Dothrak. They say he was buried with the gold still on his head. He may not have been a kind man but he was still my father. He belongs at Dragonstone with the rest of his family. He spent his life in exile. He should be buried at home next to his father and brother Rhaegar. Can you send someone to find him and bring him home?” 

“It will be done,” Sansa agreed. 

The vows they said that day were the simple ancient words that their families had been saying for generations. When it was finished and they were leaving the godswood Tormund was smiling. He clapped Jon on the shoulder. 

“It’s good that our King Beyond the Wall finally has a Queen.” Tormund said. 

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “King beyond the wall?” 

Jon only shrugged. “It’s not official or anything.” 

“Why? Because you haven’t got a castle or guards with fancy armor?” Tormund said. “Doesn’t change that most of the time we do what you tell us to do.” 

“Except for when you don’t like what I tell you to do and then you vote on it,” Jon reminded him. 

“It’s sounds like you are a King, Jon,” Sansa said with a smile. “I’m glad.”

“It’s what you were meant to be, both of you.” Bran spoke up. 

They returned to the castle for the celebration that Sansa had planned and that night the blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon was united once again.

**Author's Note:**

> I see that this story is getting hidden bookmarks but not kudos. At least I know it is getting an audience. Thanks for your bookmarks :)


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